Vent one’s spleen

February 12th, 2008 by admin

Operators are standing by, polishing their revolvers.

Dear Word Detective: I’m sitting in a “Communicating with tact and finesse” conference and our hyper-talkative instructor is regaling us with stories of her forty years of professional life. Several times during the two-day training, she described an emotional outpouring as “venting my spleen.” I’ve heard of someone “spilling their guts,” but never venting their spleen. I’m not sure if this helps, but in 1968 she worked as an operator for the very first 1-800 number in the United States, and she’s from Kansas. — Jeff.

So in 1968, while the rest of us were perfecting our tie-dyeing skills and forging new frontiers in backyard agriculture, this poor person was chained to a switchboard answering questions about hearing aids and the like? In Kansas? No wonder she has anger issues. I am, by the way, very proud that, in my many years of working in an office, I managed to avoid every single “motivational” training course my bosses came up with. Eventually management gave up on me (obviously indicating a lack of motivation on their part).

The spleen is, of course, one of those brave little organs nestled in the human midsection (just east of the stomach, in this case), performing those thankless tasks we don’t notice until something goes wrong and our deductible becomes relevant. The spleen’s job is to act as a sort of filter for the blood, but in medieval times, when each bodily organ was thought to be the home of one emotion or another, the spleen was regarded as the seat of melancholy (a mood we now know to reside in the wallet). There was apparently a brief period later on when the spleen was suspected, improbably, of supplying humor and good cheer, but by the late 16th century it was decided that the spleen was the source of rage and ill-temper. Thus “spleen” has for several centuries been a metaphor for “anger,” “resentment” and general crankiness.

“Vent” comes ultimately from the Latin “ventus,” meaning “wind,” and as a verb means “to emit or discharge from a confined space,” as a fan “vents” cooking fumes from a kitchen. The “vent” in “vent one’s spleen” is a metaphorical use of the verb that arose in the 17th century meaning “to relieve or unburden one’s heart or soul,” a sense we still use today (“Don’t mind me, I’m just venting”).

5 comments on this post.

MT:

June 19th, 2009 at 10:46 am

Does the “venting” in “venting one’s spleen,” have the same connotations as “letting off steam”? In other words, is the idea to the effect that venting releases pressure and is thus socially useful?

tezzer1:

May 8th, 2010 at 1:31 pm

I would say that “letting off steam” is preferable, if you realize the pressure is building. If you miss the early warning signs then the next stage is to “vent your spleen”. If you are still unaware at that point perhaps that’s where psychopaths and sociopaths live; they have no consciousness of pressure building, due to repressive character formations early in life.
If we allowed more ‘venting of spleens’ verbally, we might see less murder or mass shootings. Recall the Unabomber wanted his manifesto printed, i.e. he wanted to “vent his spleen”. When no media was willing to publish him he started sending mail bombs. Not saying his manifesto made any sense (except to him), but not listening to him made him even more angry.

July 23rd, 2010 at 2:05 pm

Anybody have any idea what he is talking about?

jlo:

July 8th, 2012 at 4:29 pm

Ah, Used to use “Spleen” to humorously refer to literal or figurative pain or injury to an non-specified area of the torso. As in “your elbow just ruptured my spleen” or after heavy lifting or outrageous fits of laughter “I’ve strained my spleen” and so on. Since most folks don’t know where it is or what it does it is the perfect place for these mysterious pains to reside.
Mr. Safran seems to be using the word as short hand for “the venting one’s spleen” phrase. Exercising an economy of words – of which I am alas incapable.